


Over the Penthouse, Under the Stars

by ForASecondThereWedWon



Series: Bughead Stories [10]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Hot Weather, Romance, Roof Sex, Stargazing, Summer Love, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForASecondThereWedWon/pseuds/ForASecondThereWedWon
Summary: Originally posted on Fanfiction.net. It's late on a sweltering summer afternoon when Betty and Jughead decide to go visit Veronica - mainly to gain access to her air conditioned building. The Pembrooke cools them down... then heats them right back up again. Rated E for a hot summer night.





	Over the Penthouse, Under the Stars

The air had the dry heat of the inside of an oven and Jughead was afraid that if they went down to Sweetwater River, they’d just see fish flopping around on the cracked earth where water was supposed to be. Betty had tried to make a case for it, until Jughead painted a vivid enough picture of the suffering of Riverdale’s river-dwellers that they felt vaguely nauseous, lying on the floor in Betty’s bedroom, when they heard her mom suggest sushi for dinner to her father.

“Well, we can’t just do _nothing_ today,” Betty said despairingly.

Jughead reached out for her, linking their fingers and trying to tug her closer. Betty moaned and refused to roll over so Jughead pulled himself over to her on his elbows like a missionary. He propped his chin on her shoulder and stared down at her face.

“Let’s keep doing what we’re doing then.”

“Juggy, we’re already doing nothing.”

Her cheeks were flushed from the heat that insisted on rising. Jughead had told her when he got there that she should really close her window, but Betty was a stubborn optimist and she preferred to wait for a breeze. Jughead had quipped back that the best thing she could expect to come through the window had already arrived. She’d surprised him then by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him enthusiastically. They’d ended up on the floor, but had run out of steam.

“Go ask your mom to turn the AC on.” Jughead kissed her bare upper arm, turning it into a raspberry when she didn’t reply. Betty laughed.

“No. Then she’ll wonder what I’m doing up here that’s making me hot enough for air conditioning.”

“Am I making you hot, Betts?”

Betty smiled slyly at him and stretched her arms over her head, making her butt bump back suddenly against his crotch. Jughead tried to hold her there, but she squirmed away then dragged herself up to a sitting position, resting her back against the side of her bed.

“Are you sure about the river?” She still looked hopeful, but Jughead rolled his eyes. Other people might be sucked in by her, letting Betty’s sweetness distract them from the stubbornness beneath, but Jughead had no problem pushing back.

“Betty, Sweetwater, like the rest of our cozy little town, is at an all-time low.” Jughead reached for her ankles, enclosing them in incomplete circles with his fingers. “I think you’re envisioning some sort of ‘Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grand Jatte’ situation instead of acknowledging the depressing truth. Don’t let the summer suppress your journalistic instincts.”

Betty straightened her legs, pressing the bottoms of her feet flat against his chest. Jughead ran his hands up her smooth calves.

“Where should we go then?”

“If I have to move from this spot, I vote for a location with AC.”

He watched Betty’s face shift like the phases of the moon, passing from vocal brainstorming to introspective decision-making.

“We could visit Veronica.” She looked down at Jughead with her eyebrows raised. Betty assumed it was a possibility because Archie was away at a football camp and Veronica hadn’t reached out to her instead to make plans. Jughead had warmed up to Veronica―about as much as Betty had seen him warm up to anyone―and V had always been really chill about Jughead. Veronica had actually known them longer as a couple than not, so she was used to Jughead and Betty appearing as a pair.

“Works for me.” Jughead rose slowly, as though he were wading through the thick, near-physical presence of the heat. He held out his hands to Betty, who crossed her arms at the wrist, making him pull her up with an X between them. Jughead spun her out of it, then held her back against his chest and pressed his lips to her neck. She smelt like coconut-y sunscreen and Jughead breathed deeply.

* * *

They straggled into Veronica’s apartment building hand in hand, like they were lost in the desert. Near enough, Jughead figured. The air wasn’t humid and Jughead felt boiled in a dry heat. He was so un-sweaty that he was tempted to open his mouth and start panting like a dog as a way of regulating his body’s uncomfortably high temperature.

At first, the freezing indoor air was so cold it almost felt worse than being outside. Betty shivered and her ponytail bounced and swayed like a tire swing. Then, the appreciation seeped into them all at once and Betty stopped Jughead from going forward so that she could lean against the shining, icy wall of the lobby. She dug in with her shoulder blades, though the surface did not yield, and let her head fall back, eyes closed. Jughead felt an acute yearning spear up through his chest as he stared at her, his cock swelling like the risen dough of the pizza they’d made together the week before.

The off-season conditions quickly revived them both; Betty opened her eyes to give Jughead the same look of surprising sensuality that had brought them to the flocculent carpeted floor of her bedroom earlier that afternoon. They stared at each other, realizing without words that neither felt fit to be hosted.

“Come on.” Jughead wrapped an arm around Betty, smoothing his fingers over the bare skin between her top and her shorts.

They got into the elevator, Betty seeming to glow like the circle of light around the highest button Jughead could press. They rode it all the way up, poking around the building’s top floor until they discovered the door leading to the roof. They walked out, away from the structure’s center, though the pseudo-free-falling feeling made Betty a little dizzy. She sat down near the edge of the roof, patting the place beside her until Jughead slunk down into it. He tried to hang his legs off the side, but Betty gasped so he drew them back.

Riverdale lay down all around them, like sunbathers on towels, under the early evening sun. The Pembrooke rose above all other edifices, a queen on her residentially-zoned throne, so there was nothing anywhere to block their view. Betty nudged her shoulder into Jughead’s.

“What do you think?” She studied his mouth, relaxed but still naturally downturned.

Jughead scraped a hand through his hair―it was too hot for the hat.

“I always thought this town was pure façade, like a movie set or… I don’t know… Disney World,” he sighed, “but seeing it like this, it seems more like we’re living in a dollhouse that someone’s started rearranging. I think we might be one small push from being tipped over.”

Betty’s hand closed over Jughead’s.

“’So young, and so untender?’”

Jughead smirked at her.

“Someone’s been reading their summer Shakespeare.”

“Well, he’s already written all the best arguments. And nobody calls out hollow cynicism like Lear.”

“Are you calling my cynicism hollow?”

Betty shrugged.

“A façade, to put it in your terms.”

“So all of my lifelong disappointments haven’t earned me the right to cash in a brooding soliloquy as I overlook the cracked pavement of a town that gave me roads but no direction?”

Betty could tell Jughead was happy because he was getting grandiose. She wondered what it felt like to have all of that coiled up inside him all the time and let only the sparsest communication slip through his lips. It was no wonder why he wrote.

“I think the other thing they’ve earned you is enough for now.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“A very patient girlfriend.” Betty smiled at him and Jughead dropped his eyes. An instant later, she felt his fingers grasping the back of her neck as he pulled her face over to his and kissed her firmly. Betty pushed her mouth back against Jughead’s until his hands started scrambling over her sides, trying to hold her and feel her all at once.

They scooted away from the edge and lay back, kicking off their shoes. The sun had started to think about setting and Betty knew she would remember the way the sky purpled right above the burning orange of the last light. At the same time, Jughead was working at the buttons of her shirt. She told him they were more for decoration―there were only a few tracing a vertical line down her chest―but Jughead wanted to open them all and nose along her collarbone, rubbing his lips over the tops of her breasts. Then his hand came down the front of her shirt, scooping her breast out of her bra so that Jughead could secret her nipple into his mouth, sending an unbearable tickle through her arousal.

The air was still warm and light enough that Betty felt vulnerable when Jughead pulled her top up over her head. She forced her hands between them to get a hold of Jughead’s t-shirt and lift it off. Betty kissed across his chest then touched her ear to his skin to hear his pounding heart. While she was in close, Betty pressed her palms to his abdomen, making Jughead jerk. She slid her hands into his jeans, the muscles between her legs pulsing as she rubbed over the erection stretching the light cotton of his boxers.

Jughead’s hands shot to Betty’s chest, squeezing and massaging her breasts, until he had to make the small concession of pausing to remove her bra. She was unfastening the front of his pants, but Jughead tucked her into his body, groaning as her naked torso met his. Betty reached around the back of his neck, dragging herself ever so slightly against him to satisfy her sensitized nipples.

“This still counts as doing something, right?” He panted near her ear.

“Uh huh.”

“Look at that.” Jughead had raised his head slightly and pointed with his chin. They had gotten turned around a little and he was staring across at the florescent final curve of the sun. Betty rolled over to watch and Jughead laid his cheek on top of hers, snugging his hand around her middle and securing it between her side and the roof.

The sky swiftly passed into cooler tones, taking a turn for indigo via turquoise, cobalt, and cornflower.

“Who knew there were so many shades of blue?” He whispered.

“Your eyes,” Betty whispered back, not turning her head. Jughead’s heart fell a little out of place, then snapped back in.

“I could lay here all night,” she said, as Jughead turned her and brought their lips back together.

“Ok,” he said, moving his mouth to her neck when Betty focused on yanking his jeans and underwear down.

“We just have to wait―” Betty gasped when Jughead unzipped her shorts and maneuvered his hand to cup her over her dampened panties. “―for the stars.”

Jughead pulled Betty tightly against him, his erection debossing her stomach as he felt his way to bare skin, fingering through her wetness. She started to squirm, struggling to find a rhythm with the sensations overwhelming her. Betty stretched her neck out over the extended upper arm Jughead offered as a pillow and skimmed his abdominal muscles with her fingertips. And people thought she was only with him for his brain.

Betty eased Jughead onto his back, kicking her shorts off, and sat up, swinging a leg over to straddle him. Jughead let out a hiccupping gasp, gripping her thighs just above the knee.

“But you won’t―the stars―” He felt around in the corners of his mind, but couldn’t find the words.

“You make me see them instead, ok?” Betty shot him a sweet smile, pressing down onto his dick.

Jughead groaned loudly, the back of his head bumping the ground. He looked up, watching Betty’s cheeks redden as his length filled her. Jughead saw her face, lit less and less by the sun and increasingly by the safety light next to the rooftop door, and more generally by the dim fuzz of light pollution rising from the town below. She rocked and shook over him, catching Jughead up in her motions until he was thrusting sharply up into her, pinned to the penetrative heat stored in the surface of the Pembrooke’s roof.

He marvelled at her, her and the universe beyond, watching the stars yawn into existence one by one. Jughead had the passing thought that their situation felt like some kind of crazy outer space fantasy―and he’d never had one before, but he’d sure start now―except for the pull of gravity keeping Betty plunging down smoothly on top of him. He grit his teeth, but the climax was rising inside of him so Jughead flung his arms around Betty and rolled to lay her down gently.

Her breath huffed out and she repositioned her hands on Jughead’s body, tenderly running them over his back where the roof had imprinted his skin. Betty clamped her knees to either side of Jughead’s hips as he began to open up his speed, clenching her shoulders and letting the long foremost lock of his hair brush her forehead. Her face creased in concentration as Jughead dove in then pulled up to tap her g-spot.

“Look,” he panted, watching the pleasure ripple across her features. “Betty, honey… look up.”

Betty opened her eyes, dazzled as much by the blackness of the night as by the bright spots breaking it up. The two of them seemed suspended in the center of it all.

“I think…” Her voice came out breathy as she neared release. “… I can see the Big―”

Jughead flicked his hips, driving deep inside her.

“The big what?”

Betty laughed and grabbed the back of his head, pulling his smirking mouth against hers. She tensed up, feeling Jughead connect with her just so, and he reined in his stroke, teasing her up to the edge and pushing her off. Betty’s face twitched away from him as her moan turned into his name. Jughead bit his lip and closed his eyes, feeling her all around him, and let go, panting “Elizabeth.”

* * *

Clothed again, Betty cuddled against Jughead’s chest as the roof cooled beneath them. They were back at their perch, side by side near the edge and Jughead held her as close as he could without bodily dragging her into his lap.

“You called me ‘Elizabeth’,” she whispered into his shirt. “You’ve never called me that.”

The corner of Jughead’s mouth eased up.

“That’s your name.”

“My only real name now.”

“Cooper’s still your name. That’s what it says on your driver’s licence. I assume. I might know if you didn’t make _me_ drive everywhere.”

She raised her head, smiling at his attempt to distract her.

“Really though, Juggy. I was supposed to see ‘Betty Cooper’ on my first paying byline, no offence to the _Blue and Gold_ , and it was supposed to feel good and official and _real_. Now I know the truth,” Betty shrugged, “that the name isn’t even real, it doesn’t mean anything. I thought I’d be a Cooper until the day I died.”

“You wouldn’t―” Jughead’s throat tightened up, “―you wouldn’t change it when you got married?” Something inside of him trembled like an aftershock as he got the words out. He had a sudden fear of hearing another name behind hers. He started playing with ‘Betty Jones’, ‘Elizabeth Jones’, ‘Mrs. Forsythe Pendleton Jones III’ in his head.

“I’ve thought about that.”

She’d thought about it. Jughead’s eyes widened as he willed himself not to do anything spastic.

“Really?” He tried to keep it monotone.

“Mhmm. I wouldn’t change my name if I married a celebrity.”

Jughead laughed and the sound went all over the place.

“Why not?”

“Because celebrities and their spouses always have different surnames. It seems like they don’t belong to each other.” The look in her eyes shot straight through his heart. Betty could be so practical and focused, Jughead sometimes forgot she was a romantic.

“Why, Betty, how archaic. You have heard that marriage is no longer the equivalent of possession, haven’t you?”

Betty rolled her eyes.

“Then you’d rather be Betty Gosling?”

Betty’s expression reshaped itself into distaste.

“No, it makes me sound like a bird. Like, it reminds me _his_ name is a bird.”

Jughead smiled.

“So in the event of that particular union, you’d go by Elizabeth. Problem solved.”

“Elizabeth Gosling?” Betty raised an eyebrow at him.

“Hell yeah. You sound like you’re 23rd in line for the British crown or something.”

“Or something.” She nodded, nestling her face into his shoulder. “Well, I’m not planning to commit to Ryan Gosling. I think I’ll keep my options open for a while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Hard to say what might come along.”

“Or what already has.”

Betty’s fingers sought Jughead’s, curved around her upper arm where his hand was draped over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said.

The whole sky pulled down to cover them and they breathed just fine.


End file.
